The Cold Open
by V1p3r Mk7
Summary: Galactica finds a Mass Relay that connects humanity to Citadel Space. Brief First Contact War. Total rewrite of the story: now set just months before the fall. Not really a narrative: more like closely spaced snippets and POVs one after another.
1. Galactica

******AUTHOR'S NOTE:**** Have rewritten the story, setting has changed from the First Cylon War to a point in time a few months before the Miniseries in a slightly alternate universe where the Galactica is sent on one last outer system patrol for its swan song. The story is made up of individual POV snippets.**

**Battlestar _Galactica_ - Recreation Room**

Racetracks' nose wriggled up and she winced at the writing pad in front of her; this was serious business- it was her turn to give the brief for a routine patrol that'd be run in a couple of hours time. It wasn't a big deal. Every pilot had to go through the process of delivering a briefing because that was part of the job: you were an Officer and it came with the territory, and no matter that the CAP was as simple and as straightforward as you liked... it had to be done: she didn't look forward to it. Some pilots had that glint in their eyes when you mentioned 'Command' to them- and it was like the Viper or Raptor seat they were in meant frak all; it was just a stepping stone. Not Racetrack, she'd want to be in a Raptor til the end of time.

So whenever little tasks like these came up that tested the Command abilities of the pilots, no matter how light a test it was, she felt it lost on her. Her audience was just her Raptor team and the Viper element that'd work with it: four bodies. Her aim was to set out, explain and impart the directives of a standard combat air patrol off the _Galactica_. Easy- but still she was here, just looking over the scribbled down key points of the mission like she might forget them if she didn't go over it for the hundredth time. A table behind her had two voices going; she recognised the first as the CAG- Dipper- and the other as a tattooed Viper jock whose name escaped her.

"Worst thing the Fleet can do," that was Major Jackson "Dipper" Spencer "is pay off and retire this ship."

A grunt, but agreeable one, came in return.

"I understand that this ship is Cylon War era," Dipper conceded in one long breathe "that it was built halfway through that fight and was designed for that fight, and that since then the standard for a war machine has moved on but-"

And he sounded confident in the fact that just now he'd be delivering the argument that'd turn around the Fleet decision to decommission the Battlestar "this is the best place a person can learn to fight. I mean _Galactica_ might not be what they want on the front line with those new Mercury beasts but it can still give a good account of itself, and this is the only hull that's still operating like you'll have to during war."

Racetrack frowned and the tattooed pilot behind her sang "Gods bless the old man..." like he was reading off the same sheet as the CAG. The young Raptor pilot didn't get how exactly _Galactica_ was operating like it was wartime, maybe war at its most awful and if all the advantages the modern Fleet had were taken away. So yesteryear's Cylon War maybe, but tomorrow's war? That would be about connecting the Battlestar, the Raptor, the Viper all together so that everyone got the whole picture and whomever was in the CiC could efficiently direct weapons and pilots towards objectives- victory. It was carefully, safely networking and exploiting computing power to squeeze the very best out of pilot and vehicle, crew and vessel.

_Galactica_ eschewed upgrades and overhauls that kept its sister ships competitive. It was one of the first twelve built and out of that run one of the three that had survived the War. The brain power you had to use up to survive on this thing was incredible. _Galactica_ didn't have the best ratings in the Fleet but when you factored that a lot of the calculations and processes in drills came from the craniums of its crew and not a computer it meant something. Dipper was going on:

"Frak when you hear what the _Mercury_ has: wired up this, connected that... pilot doesn't have to worry about this and the computer will give him the answer to that you wonder 'hang on'- that's not how we learned to fight. The best place to train and prepare a Mark Seven driver is right here on this Battlestar: where they have to rely on their ability and training, and be sure of themselves rather than a computer reading that tells them yup you're lining up good, or yep you've got this plot bang on."

The other pilot seemed to agree "Turning it over to the Education department? I mean if ever there was a better learning, fighting environment in existence..."

"Yeah," Dipper was agreeable "I mean this is the only Museum I'd go to but still, _Galactica_ has so much more to give to the Fleet."

"I thought they'd use this ship til it fell apart..." The CAG lamented "instead they're tarting it up and palming it off."

Racetrack smiled to herself at the image, but really she was saddened by the idea the_ Galactica_ would retire to become something to gawk at, with all this fight left in it. She returned her attention to her writing pad; her dot point prompts. She was lost and realised she'd have to start her revision from the top, she checked her watch before that though, and realised quietly that time had rolled along and if she wanted to be at her briefing without a hurry she'd have to pack up and head out now. She flipped closed her pad and slid out from her chair before pushing it in; her thoughts on this last patrol of the_ Galactica_ before it was scheduled to take on teams. Teams that'd turn it from one mean monster into one floating museum. At least they'd given it a long patrol to go on before then... it would have been a shame if _Galactica_ had been left with intra-system duties for the last two decades when otherwise it had been at the forefront of Fleet endeavours.

* * *

**Pilot Briefing Room**

Racetrack could see Helo at the door to the briefing room looking as casual as ever and she was beaming by the time she reached him.

"To what do I owe the honour?" She asked, taking a peak around him into the room where only one person was settling themselves in.

"Can't just hang out here?" he teased and was playing it very casual "it's a free corridor."

"Felgercarb," she hushed and then an idea struck her and with a fair ounce of hope in her voice asked "You're not going to be my ECO on this one are you?"

"Nah," he shook his head and his cool act seemed to drop just long enough to convince her he was genuinely disappointed that wasn't the case "I've still got that nugget who's putting dents in the deck to look after."

"I don't need looking after." Racetrack corrected though she didn't mind the idea of Helo watching her six- and he knew it. They had a rapport.

He shook his head and held his hands up, palms out "That's the truth. I know it. Just here to wish you luck- heard you were calling it today."

"Awww," Racetrack smiled so hard she knew behind his mark ones he was having a hard time resisting her "You are one sweet animal."

The square-jawed looker of an ECO, Helo, smiled at the complement and noticing no one had rounded the corridor on them reached around to give her a playful tap on the back before nodding his head to the door beside them.

"Go on; get in there and pretend you don't like playing boss."

* * *

**Starboard Flight Pod**

Hammerhead absent-mindedly poked his tongue into right cheek til it bulged a little. He was sealed up and being shunted out of the basement and into a tube. A few minutes before he'd done his walk around and chatted to the Chief, no issue with the bird, and so had climbed in and been handed his helmet. It took a bit of time, but the Deckhands hauled him into the Launch tube and onto the catapult. The klaxon told the monkeys outside his Viper to clear out, and they retreated behind the Mark Seven back to the Deck through a closing door. To the right sat the Landing Signals Officer with headset on, smart in his duty blues and no nonsense.

Hammerhead had been through the briefing, there were no real routine patrols out here because the _Galactica_ had been sent far far out on its last cruise to kiss the stars goodbye. No traffic went through here except maybe a prospector or two, and if you were really hard up for brain cells you'd believe their stories that pirates stashed their plunder on one of the dirty rocks or icy dwarf planets that dotted the region. The Raptor pilot who'd given him and Ninja the breakdown had done her best to make it interesting but really there wasn't that much too it: roll out ahead of the Battlestar and make sure everything was cool- maybe train your DRADIS on the asteroid cluster they would be passing near. But that space feature wasn't anyone's problem: _Galactica_ would jump to the next star before it got close enough to factor in the planning surrounding quietly rolling through this system.

A quick look around the tube told Hammerhead the area was secure and he noticed the blast doors ahead of him opening down the long straight barrel to clear space. His Heads Up was on and he keyed his TacNav to actively operate, then adjusting flaps down a little and goosing the throttle forward a bit where he sat he got ready to launch. There was a comforting rumble and whine from the Viper's thrusters- raw power in the palm of his hands. Hammerhead had a look at the Landing Signals Officer again and couldn't resist giving the thumbs up. The guy was speaking, likely getting the CIC's final permission then he came into the ear of the Viper jock:

"Viper One One Seven _Galactica_, clear forward," the LSO dropped his eyes for a second "Nav-con green, thrust positive and steady. Interval check."

Hammerhead turned his head away from the little side booth the LSO sat in and looked down the line towards a small dark hole that was his window to clear space. He rested his head on the padded bit of the seat behind him to avoid getting whiplash when he was fired and kept his hands off the controls while the shot warning was up and LSO signalled. Just before the button was pressed he heard "Goodbye" and then he was accelerating from dead stop out into space.

In an instant the pressing confines of the launch tube was replaced by the open starscape and Hammerhead had his hands on throttle and stick, already out there was the Raptor and his wingman Ninja. He got on the wireless to _Galactica_'s CIC and reported in, was given heading and speed in return and followed the directives to link up with the patrol. The sweet part was over, now he had a BOREX to look forward to.

* * *

**Deep Space: Patrol Route**

Racetrack took her eyes of the stars in front of her to chance a glance at Easy back in the Raptor's cabin- the young Ensign had been looking at the cluster of asteroids quite a few units ahead of them with the pilot's permission... and not much else to do, she had been more than casting the odd look at the landmark. Racetrack would never have picked her for a budding astronomer; about five minutes back Easy had told her she had seen something in the asteroid cluster. Racetrack was sceptical and when the Viper pilots had caught up they weren't too ready to believe it either.

"Can't see frak; Raptor Two Two Three." One had called in and the other had crackled over the frequency about the same.

Easy was experienced enough, but still a bit uncertain of what it was she was observing and not willing to commit them to informing Galactica then asking to investigate. Racetrack asked Easy again;

"What is it you're seeing?"

"I don't know," Easy had her head over a screen and relayed the information at hand "Nothing is showing up on DRADIS and it's not because of range or potentially interference- there is nothing there, but visuals... if I turn the camera out there I'm getting something catching the light from the star or the gas giant a few stellar units away. It's like there's something out there but there isn't."

Racetrack felt like telling her not to worry about it, there were a whole lot of reasons for thinking you saw something- the dreaded phantom contact that might get you laughed at in the Ready Room if you got too sighted on it. Still Easy had said she'd been watching it for a while and was continuing to observe: something big and shiny could be sitting between those rocks catching rays at just the right angle to throw them out at just the right angle down the Raptor's lens. In space, once in never, you could get that lucky. The Lieutenant piloting checked her state and then got the Viper pilots to call in there's. They did so without further comment, they were professional enough, but she could tell lost in the distortion was the suspicion and 'for now' restrained opposition to anything that might extend their time out here- unless it was a release to practice ACMs.

"Alright," Racetrack made her decision and reached to toggle wireless frequency "we'll stay out a little longer and you can take pictures. I'll call Galactica with the request."

* * *

**Battlestar _Galactica_ - CIC**

It was three hours later and the Battlestar likely wouldn't make its scheduled jump to the next point on its patrol. The CAP of two Vipers and a Raptor had long since returned and done a summary debrief while the photos they'd been allowed to take, that had kept them out a little longer than planned, were being processed. Prints now lay in front of the Tactical Officer and XO. Mister Gaeta and the Colonel looked intently at the object that had been pulled from the camera and enhanced to the point where it was just a blurred shape.

"It's an asteroid." Tigh was dismissive and disagreeable

"Sir," Gaeta's finger landed on the blur pointing out a short thin 'head' and long thin 'tail' on the asteroid that had to be solid, a very different configuration compared to the lumpy rocks around it, this thing was funny looking "that's one interesting looking rock, an asteroid shouldn't have features like that."

"Tell it to a scientist; we're late to our next stop off."

"Maybe we could direct a Raptor out there just to clear up whatever it is? It looks interesting enough to investigate."

"We're not out here to look for interesting things and to investigate them. What kind of organisation would we be then?" The answer was a stupid one.

The old man, in spectacles was on the other side of the Tactical board looking down at another picture the Raptor had taken. He was silent and if he knew both Gaeta and the Colonel had quietened down in the hope he'd tell them what they'd be doing about all this they had to wait a few moments. He finally, in a slow gravelly voice ordered;

"Send a Raptor out." Adama looked at his XO "We don't need to rush along our route knowing what's waiting for this ship at the end of it."

* * *

**An hour afterwards**

When the three met over the Tactical board again, they like the rest of the CIC, had their eyes glued to the Tactical display where a live feed of the strangest thing they'd ever seen was being streamed from the Raptor they'd sent out. The pilot wasn't saying much beyond station keeping directives then manoeuvring directives as the camera hung off the object and took pictures then chose another angle. Adama looked down from the display, his bespectacled eyes falling on the Communications station and he didn't waste a breath in telling the crewer there just what he wanted.

"Priority signal, tight encrypt protocols, simplest and shortest language for the transmission: I want Fleet Headquarters to be advised we are sending a messenger along with request for orders."

Gaeta realised they weren't beaming out the pictures and data they were collecting because this was something big and the implications were unprecedented. You didn't squawk because you didn't know what the outcome could be. Likely the Battlestar would camp here until relieved by another Battlestar Group, an Admiral and the brightest minds in the Colonies... who at the least might make something out of whatever that huge floating alien object was. The old man was treating this like war, like the message could be intercepted and decrypted and like the best way to go about it would be to send a runner off. The old man ordered a Raptor prepped and what readings and pictures they were getting up until the bird was ready to roll packaged to be carried by it in an old school data box.

The Tactical Officer was making arrangements; what they had was a picture of a giant orb with long arms travelling around it and stretching straight out behind it. It didn't show on DRADIS and didn't give off heat of readings, radiation or much else of the typical identifiers the Colonials looked for in an active artificial space object. It didn't look like it could house anyone or do anything. Was it a monument? Gaeta stopped hypothesising and got down to the task at hand.


	2. The Object

**Battlestar _Pegasus_ - Pilot Briefing Room**

Noel Allison rubbed his chin; he was clean shaven and just doing it because he liked the sensation while he and a couple of other minds got together and wondered what they were doing. Cole Taylor didn't look the least bit happy and Red Squadron commander Marcia Case didn't look like she was going to give him an opportunity to vent. They idled in the Pilot's Ready Room and waited a special briefing from the XO. All the pilots would be there but they were just a bit early. Scuttlebutt was taking hold in the short time _Pegasus_ had been abruptly and unceremoniously told to spool up her FTL. They had to be ready to execute jump coordinates when Fleet Headquarters got back to them. It was a big deal: you didn't pull the biggest baddest Battlestar in the Fleet off what it was doing- even if it was holding an intra system station- without something being up. There were already lots of rumours to the eventual destination and task, even with one rather casual betting pool set-up. Taylor was an arsehole- otherwise the Lieutenant, Allison, would have given odds along with the major idea for what _Pegasus_ was being told to be ready for:

"They say it's a Tauron mission that's strayed over the Armistice Line and we're going to get them back."

Case's cool blue eyes didn't warm to that idea "Doesn't sound right but then I heard that _Triton_ and _Atlantia_ got a similar message to ours- and they've already acted on it. That wherever we're going, _Bezerk_'s been sent on already."

"Who told you that?" Taylor sharply inquired

"Couple of Communication officers," she answered "say the only reason we're staying back is because they want us to pick up a special person."

"Who's so special?" Allison asked

Case shrugged "Anyway they say whatever the reason it's a big deal. Colonial Fleet doesn't quietly shove three Battlestar Groups off for giggles. But when you look at some of the messages flying about that sounds like exactly what they're trying to do."

"I'm not laughing," Taylor sulked "we're doing good work here in the Erebos."

Allison scoffed which he regretted the moment Taylor's eyes shifted onto him "Hey-" half back peddling "I know we're kicking ass and taking names but a Battlestar Escort could do the kind of stuff we're doing here. You don't need Pegasus to bust two-bit Tauron smugglers trying to get a caseload of Promethium into the hands of Ha'la'tha- or whatever. That sounds outrageous enough to be a movie plot then serious security concern."

"Frak you're flippant about it." Taylor snarled

"Look," Allison tried to stop him getting too testy "Just saying we're the worlds best fighting outfit. Not cops. What are the Intelligence Services doing right?"

Before Cole Taylor could get out a thought Jurgen Belzen, the ships' XO entered and he seemed a bit surprised to see the three there:

"Stinger, Showboat, Narcho," he acknowledged them "Why so early?"

Case answered "Our training operation was cancelled when we got the order to standby."

"Oh right," Belzen nodded and remembered that a big drill had been planned, arranged by the Wing for today "sorry about that but what we're going to do instead is pretty big."

"What is it sir?" Allison asked "any idea."

"We're picking up a Mister Amarak: Ministry of Defence... brilliant mind I'm informed and then we head out of system."

Case tried her luck this time "To do what sir?"

"You'll find out," Belzen checked his watch "all our pilots should be turning up soon enough."

"I don't get it." Taylor was sneering at the thought he couldn't follow what was going on around him. The XO seemed happy enough with that and he cryptically hinted through a half smile:

"We'll be rewriting history."

* * *

**Clear Space - Pegasus reversion point**

**34 hours later**

Noel "Narcho" Allison shot out the launch tube the moment he got on top of the urge to throw up in his helmet: you never got used to jumps. His Mark Seven hit the stars at good pace and he dialled up _Pegasus_ CIC. Got a vector pointing along the nose of the Beast and reoriented to follow.

"Come on Green Squadron," He sounded impatient over the wireless "Form up on me."

Whiplash had snuggled in under his port wing, a good wingman. He heard the challenge and acknowledgement of the Battlestar _Pegasus_ by a Viper element saying they were off _Triton_ echoing in his ear. Patched in by _Pegasus_, then he caught the relevant pair of _Triton_ Vipers on his DRADIS in front of him; they'd appear out of the black as thin gunmetal silhouettes soon enough at his closing speed. He got orders to slot in under their command. He didn't like that idea, he was a pretty experienced pilot and he thought he'd be able to run his patrol without supervision. When the _Triton_ Viper Lead came on the wireless and told him to scatter his formation the feeling only intensified. In an instant the _Pegasus_ Squadron was dissolved and pointed out towards the edge of the recovery line to stand guard over a great new find.

Narcho had been told earlier he was part of a newly put together Task Group that was guarding a discovery so wondrous it had the potential to change the way Colonials saw the space they lived in. It was tentatively called 'the object' and really no one had any ideas what it did, that much was commonly known. Surprisingly general non-disclosures had been signed before then. Now there were rumours it was an incredible power source; that it was made of materials unheard of, not comprehendible and amazingly strong and that it was some relic of the Lords of Kobol. Narcho hadn't believed in the Gods really, truly but he was ready to question his lack of faith in light of this discovery. Doctor Amarak, the man they'd waited on, would be one of the team that would make the discoveries and his name would go down in history. Til then the _Pegasus_ and three other Battlestars present were acting as the security and temporary home of operations...

* * *

**Battlestar _Pegasus_ - Pilot Locker**

**8 days later**

Marcia "Showboat" Case had the fine features of old world nobility, and could carry herself with a distinguished air. Now though she wasn't as she slumped over a table reading the new 'gag order' she was expected to sign and comply with as someone who'd come within visual distance of 'the object'. Everyone on the ship had to tick off on something like it, most did without reading; she was one of the small minority that read it. No acknowledgement that they were here was to be made to anyone at all. Not family, not partners, not anyone... you just magically lost a span of your life to nothing worth mentioning and that was it. Prosecution was clearly and explicitly set out as a punishment along with all sorts of other nasties that made this all seem a little too serious a deal for them playing 'dig site security'.

They'd been here a week or so while a trickle of shuttles arrived and departed with equipment that was likely going to be used on 'the object'. The properties of the thing made it invisible to DRADIS. It was supposed to be made out of an unknown material that could withstand tremendous amounts of energy: easily shrug off a Battlestar bombardment after presenting nothing but a hard lock for gunners, and it didn't take a genius to realise part of keeping this thing under wraps was so the Military could try and make sense of it- and in the best case figure out how to replicate the material before the next run of Battlestars was laid down.

Case looked at the picture of 'the object' that had been hung up in her Locker; it wasn't anything like what was in the Scrolls though that didn't stop the enthusiasm surrounding the idea it was a relic of Kobol. It seemed old; even while efforts were being made to figure out whether there was a way to date it conclusively. She didn't know what to make of it and wondered if anyone ever really would when one of Red Squadron compatriots burst in:

"Gods they've activated it!"

Case shot out of her chair "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

"It's running! The object- it fired up... they lit it and now it's running!"

Instead of is it safe, or was anyone hurt which Case had quietly thought would be the case- that it was a doomsday device- she asked "What does it do?"

Before an answer could come alarms rang and Case recognised Condition One had been set throughout the ship. That meant she had to get down to her Viper. She headed towards the door at speed and collected her Red Squadron charge along the way:

"Come on; let's get suited."

* * *

**Battlestar _Atlantia_ - CIC**

Admiral Nagala stood down his Viper Squadrons rather quickly but the Raptors were kept out to continue taking readings and firing solutions were maintained. It was a bright core hugged by two long arms. He had Gaius Baltar to thank for the radical hypothesis and sheer ballsiness to prod it, ultimately activate it. Well really it might not be active, but the lights were on. Nagala wasn't a stupid man, but then he also had hindsight in his corner: Baltar wanted to understand what the object was and he knew Nagala wanted to do likewise. So Baltar had carefully tailored his observations and presented them in the right order to Nagala that it precluded any real argument or counter-thought on what the Admiral would sign off on.

The scientist had skilfully played the Military man in the lead up, understood what the Fleet had wanted out of this more clearly than any of the other 'experts' that had been assembled here with their differing hypotheses then conceptualised and dangled it in front of the Staff to get them supporting his agenda. Nagala resolved himself to be extra cautious around Baltar because as of now their objectives were shared, but the brilliant scientist had shown himself the type of man who chased his own glory and was willing to use anyone and anything to get there. He was no ally of the Fleet. But he had allowed them to understand what this was and Nagala would accommodate him. What the Colonies had in their possession was a shiny enigma. Baltar likely imagined it his play-thing. No, it was all of man's problem now. Until the Admiral was convinced otherwise.

Nagala had the glowing piece of space junk to deal with- that it was lit up was progress but to what end no one knew. It hadn't wiped them out... that was good though otherwise the Admiral was no closer to knowing what he wanted about it... that it was truly an asset to humanity. He already had probes being fashioned to be deployed again closer to the object... a part of him really wanted to get boots down on it.

* * *

**Battlestar _Galactica_ - Recreation Room**

**74 hours later**

It had been days since the object had spun up and now there was a new buzz through the crew of the _Galactica_. Hammerhead shuffled into the Rec Room and awaited confirmation of an idea people had been waiting for Command to sign off on. They were going to send someone close to that thing. It had life now- it was big and bright and electric. Frakking ace. Apparently it had all been trial and error. That the object had been bombarded with probes and prodded til it had sparked and then more probes had been drifted towards it. Then it was realised you transmitted the right mass of the package and the probe would disappear. To where and what end no one knew. The most popular belief at the moment was that it was some kind of FTL transporter and they'd even had Raptors map the extent of the 'launch' corridor that you didn't want to be in unless you liked the idea of a one way ticket to the unknown.

But there was a rumbling within the ships assembled to send a manned team onwards... people were starting to believe this was the window to Elysium or something as crazy. Paradise: Frak Off. Still there was a pseudo religious, pseudo scientific push that somehow this was foretold in the scriptures and that somewhere in the Scrolls there was a reason to go on, and let yourself get taken away by this thing. There were already volunteers but no one had been authorised to lift off and fly out. People poured over the old books looking for an explaining reference. Admiral Nagala on the _Atlantia_ was responsible for the call... well really the President was and Nagala would just relay that.

Progress on studying the object had ground to a halt on the back of the _Triton_ leaving for the Colonies with most of what was known at the moment in quickly typed reports. It was likely a message would return, with the answer to whether or not people would be allowed to transport themselves to places unknown. Hammerhead took a seat around a game of Triad between Starbuck, the XO, the CAG and a couple others. While the eggheads did their calculations and divined through science that it was 'good to go' they had time to kill.

* * *

**Turian Cruiser - Flying Deck**

**Concurrently on the 'other side' of the Relay**

Pulcher Illo was not long out of Boot Camp and formally a citizen of the Turian Heirarchy. He was seventeen turns of the home world around the home star and two of his long digits into service for the state. He wasn't part of the Corps of Engineers or Police or Administration, he was a pilot and had been streamed into the fighter and interceptor program. He stood to his full height, uniformed and at attention while he was inspected. The troop leader gave him a thorough looking over, getting under his nose and into his face... very close, necessary to make the young pilot feel uncomfortable and test that his composure would hold. After the longest time the troop leader yelled in pilot Illo's face that he should spend more time pressing his uniform before clutching his sleeve tightly and leaving folds. It was a good inspection then.

The troop leader moved down the line; this cruiser had a team of ten pilots assigned to its patrol. There wasn't much they were expected to do and it was the shuttle pilots that got the most fly-time, with boarding and inspection duties. So the fighter and interceptor team stayed sharp by drilling and maintaining the art of soldiering along with study of the techniques of modern fighter warfare. After presenting they would likely move to the briefing room and be given the schedule for today's training runs, along with the list of tasks that had to be completed before they were expected to train. General ship duties. This rather basic principle to their routine had been ongoing since the cruise began.

Pulcher Illo noted that the troop leader had stopped his inspection of the next pilot down the line and was taking a communication, likely from the bridge; this was not routine. Neither was the tone of the shouted orders:

"Right face, briefing room: march!" The pilots spun on the spot towards the door in crisp sounding unison then moved at a half run- the Fighter Corp moved at a quicker step than standard Turian units to advertise the higher level of fitness, dedication and commitment it demanded. With the perfectly timed sound of ten sets of boots on deck the pilots made for the briefing room.

* * *

**Fifteen minutes afterwards**

A hologram showed an active Mass Relay, not to scale; orbiting a dark gas giant that otherwise had no satellites. A tactical officer had descended from the bridge to explain the situation that presented to all the pilots clustered around her:

"This is Relay Four Five Two; anchored to the planet GG-XI and documented as a primary type with a partner not known to us. Accordingly it is to remain dormant by Citidel Law. Last observed by a scout not long ago it was active and depositing small transmitting devices... likely surveillance drones from the other end." The Officer did not elaborate any further on the scenario "We have been given orders as the closest asset to make haste to the site and prepare a defensive line. We will hold this line until reinforced by our Legion. We have been authorised to engage anything that arrives through that Relay as in violation of Citadel Protocols. The fighter element embarked is to be prepared for operations aimed at disabling drones already present. Shuttle teams will recover.

"You will be fully armed and fuelled and expected to spend large amounts of time on station as part of our holding formation. As tactical information and advice on what we face becomes available you will be made aware of it. For now we are operating against a hostile force of which we have little understanding and will remain conscious of such fact until overwhelming force is brought to bear. Mobilisation has begun. We expect frigates to arrive shortly after us at the site, we will take some time to get there ourselves." though it wasn't communicated the Tactical Officer had been to get there with no wastage of time and prepare

"But we further factor for the arrival of a cruiser group before the next two weekly cycles are complete."

With salutes and the signals of acknowledgement from all assembled the briefing was dismissed. The cruiser was concurrently making preparations to go faster than light and it was expected by the time it arrived at Relay Four Five Two it would be ready for action. They were rushing to contain a breach in Citadel Space.


	3. The Transporter Monument

**Battlestar _Galactica_ - LSO Booth Port Flight Pod**

Racetrack poked her head over the shoulders of a Viper jock to try and get a better look at the deck. In the Landing Signals Officer's booth was a crowd of pilots trying to get a look at the returning Raptor... the crew would be famous- they had just come back through the object and confirmed it was a transporter... that it had taken them to another object sitting near a dark, large gas giant and that all they needed to do to return was simply transmit to the object their mass as they had done when they left. Not really that amazing: point to point FTL, and a new starscape... but what was beyond that planet had to be important right?

Admiral Nagala had addressed all the ships present, he had told them all that this was a big deal and that the President himself would be arriving to tour and be updated on what was going on shortly. From a last patrol this had turned into an incredible week or so. Racetrack didn't mind that she was missing the start of Summerfest because well this promised to be something. Though to be fair a voice in her head said that she was trumping it up... that everyone was. It was assumed this was something Zeus had left for them but no one could know, not so soon. In the Rec Room people were pouring over the Scrolls and any scrap of data (most likely fictitious) regarding the object to come up with the right answer for what it was to humanity. _Galactica_ was likely going to be pushed out soon... Triton would be back to relieve it but for now the old Battlestar and her crew was a valuable part of the team: providing patrols and the first Raptor crew through the object. Racetrack hadn't wanted to go, Helo and Dipper had, now everyone wanted a ticket. She couldn't see much over the shoulder and through the crush of bodies but she thought she got a glimpse of the powering down, now famous shuttle.

* * *

**Caprica City - Office of the President**

Richard Adar was talked through developments that had otherwise been drip fed to the President of the United Colonies of Kobol at morning briefings for over a week now. Then it seemed interesting and quite the find, in this recap it was starting to look a little like trouble. In the first instance Adar had agreed with the need for secrecy that the Admiral who'd come his way had suggested. He'd agreed a small fact finding team be sent from inside the Ministry of Defence. That had involved pulling some of the brightest minds in the Colonies, otherwise contracted for Fleet projects like the CNP, and taken them out to think over this unknown.

"What is it?" Adar asked

"The Transporter Monument, we're calling it that." Admiral Corman advised "It instantly takes a ship from one monument to a twin one located in an unknown region of space. It's an old, solid and powerful object that we can't comprehend."

"Right," Adar had the idea the Fleet didn't know quite what to make of its new toy but was certain that they wanted to keep it for themselves until they had its secrets "and you want me to authorise the deployment of a force through the monument to the other side to secure it?"

"Yes Mister President." Corman explained "It allows to hold the extent of the Monument as we know. We're not particularly interested in what's beyond. Not yet because there's so much to still figure out... we just want to lock down the mechanism and keep it as clear as possible for investigations and study."

"And your researchers..." Adar looked down at his paper and got two names "Baltar and Amarak, they say the material these monuments are made out of are true stealth composites?"

"It's a 'cold object' in that it doesn't give off much for DRADIS and our scopes to pick up... it isn't stealth as we know it. This same material is also incredibly strong and resilient... if we can work it out we might have a new armour type that would make our ships nearly indestructible."

Adar didn't believe that for a second, the report was hastily put together by Doctors Baltar, Amarak et al. and the oversell was apparent. Still this was a big deal. It was something older than the Colonies, since Kobol or the exodus maybe?

"Ok," Adar made a call "secure it. I want to tour it in a month and by then I want to know whether this is something that... if it will be as big as you all reckon it is. If its something I have to announce to the worlds. Don't frak it up in the meanwhile."

* * *

**Battlestar _Atlantia_ - Admiral's Cabin**

**7 hours later**

Nagala had Cain and Adama with him in his wardroom aboard the _Atlantia_. The _Bezerk_'s Commander was not present because he was being given orders to prepare his Escort to make an approach on the object. Baltar and the team of Defence Ministry brains were not present, which was just as well:

"We're sending the _Bezerk_ through... we've taken a fine tooth comb to the Raptors and Vipers that came back and they're as clean as when they left us. The conclusion we have is that this is a straight FTL transportation device... that it probably pitches us from one side of the galaxy to the other without need for the calculations that keep us out of suns and solid objects. We've run four CAPs and two Recon missions out of the object and I just received a go from the President to send the _Bezerk_ to the other side to secure it."

Nagala took a sip from his glass of ambrosia, it had a smell to it that still flared the nostrils... a sign it was sharp stuff and worth the cubits he'd spent on Scorpia. The Admiral had already thanked Bill for keeping discrete about it when he'd come across the object... it had predicted a tone of thought the Government was following and it was a shame he'd be ordering the _Galactica_ off now. Giving the first run through the object wasn't quite the gift it was seen as now... Nagala had hoped with every fibre of his being that that brave Raptor crew had come back... it did. They were heroes and _Galactica_ itself just had another claim to fame. Now though the bravery of the action was lost in a mad enthusiasm to see what was on the other side. Emotion moved quickly through the Task Group. No one had made announcements but news got around faster than light. It was only human to want to go through and see what was beyond.

"Helena, Bill I was hoping you two could provide us with a formation of Vipers to go down the line with _Bezerk_: flight by flight. History and all."

The Commander, then the Rear Admiral nodded and Nagala was happy "The other side is lifeless... just our probes bleating in all directions. They've been for the most part collected back up, and we're going through the data now. You won't be moving anything through until we've gone over everything," he assured

"But it'll likely confirm all quiet. That gas giant on the side is interesting but other than that it's an alien, silent sky. This is going to be about planting the flag. So when they declassify all this in ohhh... a few hundred years time we'll all be famous."

There was a ring from Nagala's desk telephone that shorted the chance to chuckle, and the Admiral stopped his little chat to take the call. He noticed Adama and Cain didn't talk between themselves, just politely waited while he was on the line. When he put the receiver down he smiled even though he didn't know what to make of it:

"Well: this just got interesting."

* * *

**Battlestar _Galactica_ - Recreation Room**

**That night**

Mumbles had shot through the ships present at lightning speed: that one of the probes they'd first sent out had returned with some important information. No one knew what but the mumbles had been acknowledged a few hours ago by a ship wide broadcast that told everyone to stay tuned for a message from the old man. The Rec Room had been crowded with pilots and crew not long ago when Helo and Dipper had finally left the infirmary with an all clear... all sorts of questions and cheers bombarded them. What was it like? Well done! That sort of thing... Racetrack hadn't got a look in so she'd waited and while it was the most agonising few hours of her working life it was rewarded with a burst of static through the ships speaker:

"This is Commander Adama: a few hours ago I advised I would be making an announcement on Admiral Nagala's behalf on the findings of a probe that was sent through the transporter monument-" Racetrack wondered whether that was what they were calling it now "We believe that it picked up readings: heat, radiation and crucially a picture of an as yet unknown contact from the other side. A powered spacecraft."

There was an eerie silence all of a sudden, throughout the ship. Not a person breathed lest they accidently miss anything else the Commander said. He continued:

"We had a DRADIS plot, it was followed, but no further encounter has been recorded with that contact or anything like it. As it is we have been ordered to contribute Vipers and Raptors as transit escort for the _Bezerk_ while it moves to be transported across to secure the other end of this relay. Life here began out there. We just may be on the cusp of meeting what's out there."

There was then the longest silence, a minute stretched out until the Tactical Officer was suddenly on the horn "While we may not me be privy to every scrap of information coming out or yet know the full scope and ramifications of the discovery here... I think it is fitting that this Battlestar, _Galactica_, be at the forefront."

"So say we all." Someone nearby shouted after the old man had signed off and there was an echo then that sounded out through the corridors of the mighty ship back all the way up to the CIC "So say we all."

* * *

**Citadel Space - Relay 452**

_Bezerk_ was a long Battlestar Escort; thinner in comparison to the big ships of the fleet without the characteristic flight pods either side. Instead it carried a group of Raptors that it deployed and recovered from a boxy landing pod carried at its 'belly'. It had banks of medium guns and quite a few point defence weapons and though its CIC was modest it could coordinate the operations of the Raptor teams now on the 'other side' of the object that were streaming out from its twin and trying to make sense of the new environment. Nagala stood watching one of _Bezerk_'s tactical displays and was personally overseeing the set-up of a series of DRADIS buoys that'd give an extended warning zone if anything like their alien contact came back into view. Nagala had quietened the mood and instilled a workman-like attitude while the Escort went about its work scouting out and securing this side of the unknown.

* * *

No one was given the chance to appreciate the fact that they were boldly going where no man had gone before and that though they had taken one small flight as men and women they'd undertaken one giant leap for mankind. Cole Taylor sat at the controls of one of the Raptors _Pegasus_ had sent on through with the _Bezerk_, temporarily he was based out of the Escort while he deployed sensor satellites and communication relays that'd extend the scope of Fleet beyond the range of the ship at the transport site, and beyond the envelope of a prowling Raptor. He was focused on the Gas Giant: putting satellites and looking devices near it that'd give back readings on the new world but also give a picture of what was behind it. No blind spots. Cole's ECO piped up:

"DRADIS contact: unidentified at bearing 26 carom 7. It's on screen as real close to that planet. Just inside its atmosphere."

The Captain was happy his ECO didn't get all high pitched and excited, they themselves weren't too far from the gas giant- about twelve minutes flying time. He turned back and told his helper to get a picture of what it was. Then he looked down at the printout he and likely every Raptor jock up at the moment was carrying on them: a blur with corresponding DRADIS signature, and then trailing data for a whole lot of other scanning devices Raptor's carried relating specifically to the alien object a probe had pictured out here when they'd first arrived.

"Is it anything like our object of interest?"

"No sir. Got a fix on it and tagging new contact: it's sitting in high orbit of the gas giant and- wow!"

"What?" Taylor demanded

"Picking up an energy spike. Recording: its discharging energy out of everywhere." The ECO quickly qualified "Localised, non-threatening and dropping electricity into the planet's atmosphere like I dunno."

"Keep it together Lieutenant."

"It's messing my readings."

"You just sit tight and make sure we're still recording all this. I'm getting on the wireless and streaming it to them."

* * *

**Turian Cruiser - Relay 452**

Pulcher Illo stood poised in his flight gear; helmet tucked under his arm, while the cruiser sat in the upper atmosphere of GG-XI and released the static electricity build-up from its drive. The cruiser had pushed to the point of saturation to get here quickly, but it was understood they'd been beaten out by whatever was from the other side of the Relay. Suddenly the decision to make haste seemed the wrong course of action- but then no one would say anything.

The cruiser would sit, with its sensors retracted, and discharge into atmosphere. To do otherwise... like launch fighters might risk the rolls of lightning firing off the hull connecting with a small craft and frying it. Pulcher Illo imagined it could happen to him, but buried the anxiety deep. He kept his eyes on the hatch that when displaying the 'safe' signal and unlocked would take him to his fighter and quietly in his mind thought of the spirit of the unit... its sense of service, dedication and courage that he may be inspired by it. He would have the enemy to face soon. They had all received the shortest stay on the inevitable confrontation.

When the cruiser finished its discharge it would make a sensor sweep, deploy fighters and ready weapons so that it could quickly seize the Relay. And it would seize and hold the Relay. The enemy would hopefully leave them alone in the upper atmosphere, unnoticed. Hopefully. All aboard knew for this short window of time they would be vulnerable. Not since the Rachni had Illo known a primary relay to have been activated. For it to suddenly fire up meant that whomever was on the other side, they had just declared war on the Citadel. They mightn't have done it knowingly but it took a mean spirit to activate a relay leading into the unknown... it was like you intended to muscle your way across the stars without consideration, and as such with an aggression the Turians had vowed to protect the civilised peoples of the galaxy from. Illo felt he was doing a great service. It steeled him for this bold operation his cruiser would undertake to secure the breach. To survive the vulnerable moment. Hold the line. Defend the universe. He slapped his armoured chest, it prompted the pilots with him to do likewise. A cacophony of sound empowered them to do good, to do their duty. After they waited.


	4. The Relay 452 Incident

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**** Have rewritten the story, setting has changed from the First Cylon War to a point in time a few months before the Miniseries in a slightly alternate universe where the Galactica is sent on one last outer system patrol for its swan song. The story is made up of individual snippets. You can re-read from Chapter One. Chapters One, Two and Three are completely rewritten and Four is new. Chapter Five... a continuation of the Battle is halfway done.**

**Citadel Space - Relay 452**

**An hour and a half after the Turian arrival**

Cole Taylor was coordinating seven Raptors that were watching- from a safe distance their new contact. The first alien contact was on live feeds and likely playing to _Bezerk_- a picture of this alien ship shooting lightning off its hull. It was a couple of hundred metres long though the electrical interference made actual readings near impossible. Long hulled with two sets of vertical stabilizers on top and below located towards the 'front' of the ship; like fins. A single flat, square vertical stabilizer sat above the engine block at the back. The front itself was open, like a mouth and it looked like what Taylor thought was the hull was some outer, armoured exterior. He didn't like the look of it. They'd been watching for over an hour and he had seven Raptors to count on, a squadron of Vipers in reserve and the _Bezerk_ making preparations behind.

The lightning leaping off the hull was quite a show though in the last few minutes it was lessening and that was a change. A change would need a response from him. Taylor wasn't sure... he didn't have a directive to open contact, nor protocols that would allow him to, from _Bezerk_ Actual. He just had orders to watch and be weary. The lightning stopped. His ECO gave him an immediate picture of the contact: dimensions mainly and energy output. Frak it must have an engine on it. On his screen there was a series of flashes out the open mouth of the ship.

"New contacts! Ten accelerating quickly, turning... trying to get a fix."

The _Pegasus_ pilot Captain checked his board "They're breaking after each of us," the Raptors were being approached by objects that were the size of Vipers but were turning and speeding out like the highest performing anti-aircraft missiles known to man.

"Move the Vipers in to give us some cover."

Taylor rested a hand on his control column and narrowed his eyes, searching out the new contact approaching him: first on his board then out his front window. It had a thin profile and he didn't recognise much before he swore he saw a muzzle flash. He wrenched on the column and yelled "Evasive!" but it was too late and his Raptor was collapsed then torn open by a round fired from the new contact. Cole Taylor was ripped to pieces in the process.

* * *

**Bezerk CIC**

Admiral Nagala looked across the Tactical display, now showing static from an abruptly cut feed, at the _Bezerk_'s Commander who confirmed: "Contact lost with six of our Raptors. Vipers moving in with our remaining Raptor out there... and the ten new contacts are still on the board. They're forming up and the cruiser is moving out too."

"Where are they heading?"

"Towards us." The Commander levelled

"They're hostile," Nagala concluded "broadcast a warning towards them to stand aside, power down at once."

"No challenge?"

"No," Nagala reckoned the disappearance of six of his Raptors was enough to identify them as a threat "tell our Viper formation out there it is free to defend itself and call in the rest of our Vipers to form up a defensive screen. Ready a firing solution for _Bezerk_'s protective screen and coordinate with our Raptors out there to make sure its the most efficient use of fire possible."

The Commander took the nearest receiver off the hook while the Escorts XO and Tactical Officer likewise started relaying orders. Nagala turned his eyes on the new contact, decided it was a small combatant but he wasn't going to toy with it.

"New reading off the main hostile: it is putting out a lot of energy near its hull."

"Countermeasures?"

"They're lighting up our DRADIS- I doubt it."

"Time to range?"

"Thirty minutes."

Nagala folded his arms and said aloud "It's up to our Vipers to look after themselves and compel these guys to stand down," as an aside he told the communications officer "get a Raptor back through the object to advise everyone about what's going on. Set Condition One throughout the Task Group. Keep on broadcasting our message to the unidentified aggressors, asking them to stand down."

"That energy output might be some in-close defence system?"

"We'll find out soon enough."

* * *

**Between the Turian and Colonial ships**

"Defensive pattern, stagger flights and scatter formation." Jackson "Dipper" Spencer ordered in a distorted crackle to his twenty charges... they had been given the order to defend themselves if necessary, and it looked like that would be the case. Ten fast movers had assembled after knocking out their Raptors and were now closing in on them. The Raptor supporting the Viper squadron had already begun jamming in support of them, while putting onto Dippers heads up all the data it had collected on the closing targets.

The Vipers were a cluster stretched out over a kilometre of space, seemingly unorganised but with fields of fire that covered the pilots ahead without immediately being compromised by a friendly sitting in the middle of their sights. Clear and covering. Dipper was at the head of this swarm formation: the Raptor had told him only two bandits were approaching and the other eight would likely streak past them as an advance guard for the cruiser. Each little fast mover lit up the DRADIS and their energy output seemed more than just an engine flaring. They were arrogant bastards if they were sending two against twenty.

"Thanks for the update Shark," Dipper then warned off the Raptor "Hang back and stay safe. We'll take care of them."

He got on the Squadron frequency, likely being played over _Bezerk_'s CIC speakers on slight lag "Stay sharp, pick your target and accelerate to one hundred: weapons free."

* * *

Pulcer Illo's Interceptor was on the wing of the troop leader. The rest of the formation was in fighters which were carrying a load of disruptor torpedoes and was tasked with a quick strike on the enemy Dreadnought. It didn't have the presence of a Dreadnought but this new enemy from the other side of the Relay was fielding a ship the size of a Dreadnought- and it was dearly hoped the fighters could get a strike in before it put up its kinetic barriers... try and keep the enemy harassed until reinforcements arrived. Fighters were designed and fielded to strike enemy ships quick and hard: keep them unsettled while the main ships delivered the killer blow. Interceptors were optimised to take out Fighters and Illo, in one of the Cruisers' two Interceptors, was ready to do damage to the enemy formation.

Illo adjusted his thrusters and throttled down a little so that he'd be able to easily hold weapons locks while closing. The enemy had a lot of fighters deployed but none were rushing in on the cruiser to loose their own torpedoes, and only this group of twenty was close enough to hassle his home ship. Illo had clear orders to stop them. The enemy flew thin stiletto shaped fighters that were a dull grey, flared out at the back into a vertical stabiliser and two stubby wings built around its engines. They looked menacing. The formation didn't have shields up and it was holding, as if letting him come on... what kind of doctrine was this?... Illo's long fingers hovered over the trigger to his linked mass accelerators and he watched the range scroll down.

He got a tone a short few moments later and pressed: squirting a half second of fire at his first target before rolling his reticule over the next fighter and pressing the trigger again. There was two quiet seconds as the rounds he had released closed, then he was rewarded with an explosion and a second flash before his other target spiralled out of the fight, winged. Illo's interceptor was then amongst them at close range while the enemy broke in all directions and itself opened fire.

He shot off the nose of one hostile fighter while it stood on its tail and opened its throttle up... only the engine block powered away to safety while other fighters then started pouring rounds into him. Immediately and reassuringly his barriers deflected their slugs but the sheer volume of fire he waded through was taxing the system.

* * *

Kara "Starbuck" Thrace used her feet to wheel her fighter around on the spot; her guns leading the two 'standing' fighters that had assaulted them. Each shot was bang on target but not one round she landed did damage. Like magic the enemy was deflecting the damage. Invisible shields: was that why they lit up her DRADIS like Colonial Day celebrations? She opened the gate and her Viper kicked off in the wake of the fighter, she kept up a line of concentrated and accurate fire that never failed to miss or overshoot the enemy fighter.

Then it side-slipped, at speed, in an instant it had assumed a parallel vector to its original course just below and behind her line of fire. That was physically impossible: anyone in there would be splattered across the cockpit while the violent re-orient had been conducted. But the fighter twisted down and turned back around to catch Vipers it had passed. Starbuck spiralled after it, her slower comparative speed allowing a tighter turn that continued to have her keep her sight on the enemy. She squeezed the trigger and let loose another long line of destructive rounds, they caught the fighter and then miraculously, finally hit hull.

The enemy fighter right-angled in on her Viper, giving her its full attention while ignoring the laws of physics yet again. It accelerated, closing the distance between them while firing. She kicked her wing around her nose then dipped the Viper and basically shook her fighter out of a clean lock and saw space light up around her cockpit: tracers. Until in a second the fighter had passed and she was free. Immediately she pulled her nose all the way around and fired in its wake. The rounds connected just above the engines of the enemy fighter and caused them to flare. Then it exploded spectacularly. Frak. Starbuck checked her gun counter while turning away. She'd practically emptied her guns for one tough kill.

The enemy fighter's friend appeared in front of her with muzzle flashes either side of its thin profile but she throttled out of harms' way before it rocketed past, she snapped her neck to look back after it and was surprised to see it had already turned on the spot and was sitting on her tail.

"Frak!" she didn't get a chance to ask for cover while she snapped the stick and wrenched the throttle again into full emergency boost, screaming while her Viper again powered out of the scope of this enemy. Starbuck was at the edge of the G-ratings she could handle but immediately pulled back throttle and danced her fighter around in what she hoped was a turn to get her latching onto the tail of the enemy. But it had twisted off; it took her a precious second to find it again. Two Vipers following it but ineffectively firing, Dipper was on the wireless:

"Fall back towards _Bezerk_'s fighter screen, repeat fall back to _Bezerk_'s fighter screen."

Overlayed was chatter: "Krypter, Krypter, Krypter!" "I can't get a hit!" "It's too fast!" "Can't keep up with it!" "We lost Catbird!" "I landed fire but it didn't do anything!"

Then Dipper again ordered the retreat. Eight Vipers were already off Starbuck's DRADIS and the remaining twelve would be harried by that one super-fighter as they dashed back towards the perceived safety of the rest of the Vipers_ Bezerk_ had asked to come through the object with it. They were fighting something that had all the advantages it seemed. Starbuck had a feral look in her eyes. It was a good day to be alive.

* * *

Pulcher Illo swore to himself and forgot it was likely being broadcast to a battle-space controller aboard his ship: he'd lost his leader to the guns of the enemy and now was very much alone in his fight against them. They moved slower, couldn't accelerate or turn like he did, but there were more of them and they flew smart. They covered each other and one of them had sent fire into the Turian Interceptor like it was a magnet... still there were pluses. Kinetic barrier was holding. Power was good. Heat build-up wasn't a factor. Fuel state was good. Eight of twenty enemies were down and the twelve survivors were retreating. He'd kept them off his cruiser.

He dived away from the formation then when far enough away spun his Interceptor around, feeling only the slightest tingling in his stomach as a result of the violent manoeuvre. He told himself to calm down; his advantage was his acceleration and turn. He was a good shot. He would pick one target and fly through the formation faster than they could lock on him, land a killing blow, speed away then reset. Boom then zoom: he would make sure there would be no survivors.

* * *

**_Bezerk_ CIC**

Nagala swore to himself as the fighter squadron he had out there had just gotten decimated by only two of those enemy fighters. Super fighters: they took a huge amount of rounds to bring down and it was believed had some sort of shielding. It was likely the eight fighters coming at him on the _Bezerk_ also had heavy shielding. They had breezed through his assembling fighter screen without even decelerating.

The Escort at least had a protective wall of fire up. It had pumped huge amounts of ammunition into the space ahead of it and as the eight super fighters hit that he noticed a pair winking out on the DRADIS. He clenched his fist, killed one of those fraks that had taken out his Raptors.

"Keep the fighters out of our firing solution. Move them up and over the worst of it so they at least have the opportunity to dive in while we adjust range for our rounds."

"Yes sir."

The Vipers began to move while seven survivors from _Galactica_'s Squadron falling back linked up. One more super-fighter was still mixed in with them. The _Bezerk_ was throwing out a high volume of fire, right into the path of these super-fighters and they were wearing a good part of it. It was obvious they were making a run on _Bezerk_, that they probably had nukes tucked away... this Escort might not handle a direct hit well at all. Nagala didn't fear for himself.

"Send another Raptor through the object: request _Atlantia_ to come through in support. How long til that ship is in range?"

"We have missile locks."

"You can fire anti-ship missiles."

"Firing anti-ship missiles. Seven minutes and counting down until they are within our gun range."

"At a minute turn the ship about to give the forward guns a good line on them and have the crews load for salvo fire... they better have firing solutions ready."

"Yes sir."

Nagala watched the eight super-fighters punch through his flak screen. His medium guns had adjusted range, his Vipers were kept out and the _Bezerk_ fired.

* * *

**Between the Turian and Colonial ships**

Pulcher Illo twisted his Interceptor around an enemy fighter and they passed so close that his engines left the long nosed enemy craft with a black burned and bubbling streak on its hull. The fighter had twisted away and another now shot at him. Their mass accelerators weren't powerful but his kinetic barriers were being overworked. He opened the throttle and put a fair amount of distance between himself and the swarm of enemy. He got a message from his Cruiser to disengage and act as spotter while the fighters launched torpedoes. The Dreadnought still hadn't got its shields up!

He confirmed his role and sped closer towards the enemy ship; his cockpit glass display easily zoomed, enhanced and cleaned an image of the Fighter formation as it reached its optimal launch point. Illo tried to patch through the image but there was strong interference: most likely jamming. He recorded.

One fighter disappeared, explosions flashed all around the formation- they had flown into another volley of enemy fire. Three fighters dropped their loads of missiles and sped away but nearby explosions seemed to swallow up the disruptor torpedoes before its engines had even fired. Two he saw launched their disruptor torpedoes but as soon as they activated they were triggered and the blast they released tore apart the escaping fighters while sucking in and waving about the explosive rounds nearby. The attempted strike on the Dreadnought had been turned away, failed under a huge barrage of fire. But the big ship still hadn't brought up its shields... did it have any? If it didn't suddenly the Turian Cruiser had a chance against it and while the torpedo attack had failed the damage from the Cruiser's mass accelerators ought to tear it up.

The battle-space controller on the Cruiser managed to get a message through to Illo: cover the returning fighters which, with a wheel over, he set out to do. He was leaving an angry swarm of enemy fighters and a huge defensive wall of exploding anti-spacecraft rounds behind him.

* * *

**_Bezerk_ CIC**

The _Bezerk_'s missiles had been vaporised by lasers just as they closed in on the enemy ship. Frakking laser beams! The two were now exchanging fire from their main guns. The Escort taking crushing rounds on its nose that knocked out turrets and tore open decks while its own sustained fire seemed to turn away the enemy ship just as it seemed ready to press for the kill. It was clear that one was shielded while the other was not. The Escort was wounded but not damaged enough that it would concede. Thankfully the enemy fighter strike mission had been turned away with excellent gunnery skills from _Bezerk_'s crew. The focus was now squarely on the ship duel.

Nagala held tightly onto the Tactical Display in front of him. He was bloodied and the CIC, despite being buried deep in the Escort, had been just as shaken up as the rest of the ship while exchanges of fire went on. The Admiral had the Escort twist to give a broadside then drop its gashed 'head' so that fully elevated and turned turrets from the other side of the ship could join the salvo they were turning onto the enemy. No telling damage was being done at first: the enemy had shields that stopped or deflected much of the Escorts fire. Their lasers even seemed to target shells. But the Admiral wouldn't quit.

He ordered missiles join the salvo and he had the Escort's gunners keep up a continuous stream of fire until there was a bright flash on the enemy's hull: a nuke had gotten in close enough to detonate and while DRADIS fizzled and threw off the Escort's aim for a few long instants it made Nagala think he'd done enough to see off that tough little ship that had tried to take him on.

* * *

**Between the Turian and Colonial ships**

Dipper and Starbuck formed up, they sat above the fight watching shells streak between the two ships. The enemy had faster rounds which when they hit tore and peeled off armour. After a long exchange they were getting at the hull. But Colonial ships were built to fight til they were debris and then for a good long time afterwards. A few guns were silenced but most kept on shooting. It was a long, brutal slugging match.

Starbuck checked her DRADIS: the enemy ship was no longer closing and after a flash from _Bezerk_'s missile strike had begun to drift away from the Colonial ship. The battle finally started to look the way it should. That enemy ship was long but it was still half the size of what it was going up against. Fires were blazing aboard and out of the_ Bezerk_. Huge holes had appeared in it. But the enemy ship was slowly moving away: out of immediate range. Dipper got on the wireless:

"All Vipers stay tight and hold position."

Which was a tough ask: most were running low on fuel and were out of ammunition... useless in another fight. The Raptor's had done their bit and the jamming of the enemy and coordination for friendly Vipers and turret crews seeking firing coordinates that they'd provided had helped. The last shots between the Battlestar Escort and the enemy ship abruptly stopped when the _Atlantia_ appeared near the object.


	5. The Relay 452 Incident concluded

**Battlestar _Atlantia_ - CIC**

"I want our Vipers and Raptors armed with nuclear devices and anti-shipping missiles!" Nagala bellowed. He had a patch over his left eye and his right arm was in a sling "I want it done now; no excuses, just yes sir."

"It'll take time sir to get the weapons on our fighters: Vipers don't carry nukes usually."

"The enemy will not wait for you. Get it done!"

Admiral Nagala was in the clean, together CIC of his usual command: Battlestar _Atlantia_... he'd transferred his flag from the chewed up Escort _Bezerk_ to the arriving _Atlantia_ and he'd demanded the ship chase down and shred the enemy vessel once he'd gotten aboard. The enemy was retreating, and was slowly inching away. But the long heavy guns of the Battlestar had landed some shots first and they had punched through whatever gods damned shields the enemy relied on like it was nothing.

"Strike fighters are the way we'll catch 'em and kill them! They have no fighter cover at the moment and we'd be fools not to exploit it." He was of the resolute opinion that sending his Vipers out with the high yield weapons that'd kill this gods awful enemy ship would get the job done while his own guns kept them and those intermittent laser flashes honest.

"Yes sir."

"Is _Pegasus_ coming through?"

"It will sir."

"Good," Nagala had ordered the new Mercury class Battlestar follow him through the object so he had _Atlantia_ freed to pursue the attackers. Cain would organise the defensive position and likely hold it with the Battlestar Escort _Bezerk_ was limping back to be transported to Colonial Space.

Admiral Nagala was incensed, he wanted a scalp but he also had to be mindful he was motoring away from the safety of the Transporter Monument and Colonial assets there. He wanted a quick strike. He picked up the nearest receiver and punched in a call to the Deck.

"_Bezerk_'s fighter escorts? The ones we recovered. Fuel them, sling missiles under them, put them back up on the deck and send them out. It'll be faster than dragging out ours right?"

He crashed the phone down.

* * *

**Turian Cruiser**

Pulcher Illo realised his home Cruiser was struggling while it was being pursued: this new enemy Dreadnought had bigger guns than the first one and more of them. It was a bigger and stronger looking ship but didn't have a barrier up either: this evened things between the two camps at least. The crew of the Cruiser was moving about purposefully with a team of technicians with mechanised servicing equipment re-arming his Interceptor, right there where it was secured on the inner hull. Illo gave one last look up at the armoured outer hull and imagined it being peppered by shells from the enemy.

When he got onto the Deck it became clear that the crew were arranging for a transition to FTL. A Tactical Officer breezed past him while ordering the new flight troop leader to secure the small craft:

"We have to disengage, our combat endurance is being tested and heat build up is approaching readings that would require a temporary halt to our attack."

"Yes sir, but our frigates?" The new leader was talkative but she was likely being so in the hope she'd be released again to cover the Cruiser while it moved away and then fight against the enemy small craft before being picked up by the promised to arrive relief 'pack' of smaller, faster ships. She, like Illo was confident he would survive combat with the enemy, even in such a scenario.

"They have been ordered to stop out of system," The Tactical Officer ended the conversation "the situation presented wasn't what was expected on our arrival from before it. In this grapple we are going to break then rejoin. That is all."

"Yes sir."

* * *

**Battlestar _Atlantia_ - Flight Deck**

Starbuck's chest rose and fell excitedly while she poured sweat; her face was still wet, her shock of blonde hair soaked and slicked. Bald old Dipper closed on her with uncertain legs; she'd have moved to him a bit but didn't trust herself to take a step away from where the Deckhands had left her. When he closed in he threw her a towel and bottle of water.

"That was something else."

"That's an understatement." Dipper told her "_Bezerk_ should've released us to our own devices earlier... might have done something if we didn't have to wait for them to come onto us only repeating 'after you shoot I'll defend myself'. Felgercarb those things were potential friendlies. Downing our Raptors isn't a mistake and they weren't about to stop and say 'I come in peace' either."

Dipper was getting wound up because everyone knew; movies had told them, when you met aliens it wasn't going to be kisses and hugs... one side would do that while the other loaded a gun. Maybe Dipper had the belief humanity would get to be the one with the gun from the start in real life- if in all the movies out it played the team with the disadvantage. Starbuck told him:

"Those things came on too fast."

"Yeah, rule book and the physics book got spaced."

"Do you have any idea what just happened? Other than me proving I'm the best Viper driver ever?"

"No, but it looks like we're getting hazardous duty pay. Frak that was some flying." He slapped her thigh and she hated him for it "Keep sharp, we'll likely get to do our debriefing with one of the Intelligence guys on here... it's not over yet."

As if summoned by Dipper's words the _Atlantia_ Chief of the Deck rolled up: "Major, Lieutenant... I've been ordered to refuel and rearm your Vipers."

"Frak off," Starbuck reacted but the smile that she was sporting suggested she was ready to climb back into her Mark Seven "don't you guys have like a whole wing ready to go?"

"We do, and we're going to arm a few of our fighters like you and then lift it back up onto the Deck."

"What?" Dipper asked

Behind the Chief the two pilots noticed trolleys being pulled up; not with ammunition belts, drums or anti-aircraft missiles on them but rather full sized anti-ship missiles. Nuclear warheads. Both pilots remembered the enemy had shot down incoming nukes... with visible laser blasts. Likely they were going to be asked to ride these missiles in close and release them to ensure a hit... or at least increase the odds a little bit against the enemy laser guns.

"Frak-" Starbuck swore again "years and years of rocket science to get a decently destructive missile that will fly on its own to a target and now they want us to strap onto it and take it all the way. Who's stroke of genius ideas was that? Did I say I love this job Dipper?"

The Major shook his head at the Lieutenant "Come on, get back in the seat- expect a briefing over the wireless."

* * *

**Battlestar _Atlantia_ - Flight Pod**

Showboat adjusted flaps and throttled up so that the rumble of her Viper and the shudder increased. She checked thrust was positive and sustained before steeling herself for the trick manoeuvre that'd launcher, heavily laden, off the deck. _Atlantia_'s LSO was in her ear telling her it would be okay to lift off. The Pegasus Viper jockette gradually goosed the throttle forward then adjusted RCS power with her thumb on the same piece of equipment so that she'd get a full kick. Her Mark Seven dragged itself across the deck with a heavy nuclear device fixed underneath along its centreline. The nose lifted with a long expulsion of propellant and Showboat found nearly all of her RCS points were firing down to give her air. The moment she felt herself slip the surly bonds of the Flight Deck she pulled her nose up and vectored her engines, getting momentum and carrying herself forward, but to the LSO watching she made the most awkward looking exit into space.

Free of the Pod, Showboat found herself clearing the Battlestar at speed and made a gradual turn then. On the wireless was told to fly towards a mixed Raptor and Viper formation that'd guide her in:

"You are the shooter Captain," _Atlantia_ was saying "We have assigned four of our Vipers as your escort and a Raptor with the capability to control and detonate the missile after you have delivered it into a high probability of kill launch position. The Raptor will advise you when you are close enough to release."

"Copy that _Atlantia_."

"Good hunting."

Showboat shook her head and mirthlessly advised down the communication unit "I'll be back for my bravery medal after this; keep it ready."

* * *

Starbuck powered down for the third time and felt the deck lower so that her view of the end of the pod and clear space beyond it was replaced by the chaotic and crowded goings on of the Deck. She unlocked the canopy and slid it forward, unfastening her helmet and shouting over the din:

"You're killing me! I can't get good constant thrust out of the engine."

_Atlantia_'s chief and a team of deckhands hit the Viper, tearing open an access panel and shouting among themselves theories for why the fighter wasn't working like they needed it to. It was the Chief who asked her:

"You didn't boost the engine did you? Send it beyond ideal power ratings?"

Starbuck's lips curled into something leady to release expletives- the only ideal power ratings were the ones that got you back on the Deck alive:

"Yeah: I used boost to hang onto the tail of one of those enemy super fighters and shoot it down."

"Sir that could have done a fair bit of damage to engines: Vipers can push the envelope but doing so risks chewing up your thrusters or reducing lifespan and reliability." he couldn't believe she'd stayed conscious in the event "We've got problems I think."

"Get it working," Starbuck demanded "Or unhook that bomb and get it on a replacement bird for me. I'm the last one out! There's a team waiting for me already!"

"Yes sir!"

* * *

**Turian Cruiser**

Dipper didn't like the idea of riding a nuclear missile to an arbitrary point where it would have to be released without making the call himself. The decision would come from the Raptor which was also patching in targeting data, providing sensor distractions and had the go to prime. He had two Vipers as his wingmen, though with no opposition they were chase planes. His Viper was part of a group of seven strike fighters and there was a second wave coming.

"I will release in ten."

"Uhhhh," that was his Raptor pilot partner in crime "sir I was hoping you could take it twenty?"

"Too close, we saw their lasers working at that range."

"I know sir but if all Vipers do a run past we likely have four targets for the lasers to think about."

"I don't like the idea of being fried playing decoy for the bomb. We go at ten."

"Sir I got a number on the energy output we gleaned while the lasers were firing. It won't fry your fighter up."

"What'll it do?"

There was a silence "Worst case cook electronics and turn you ballistic..? But you'll cross it and we can pick you up afterwards."

Dipper shook his head and thought the pilot had a lot of nerve. He respected that but was still going to break the Raptor pilot's nose for suggesting something so crazy.

"Releasing at ten."

He watched range to the enemy ship tick down and at ten announced "Releasing." Then punched a weapons toggle button that had been noted 'do not touch – nuke toggle' before pulling the trigger. Nothing happened. He thought he heard a clank but didn't feel or note the performance increase on his screen associated with the heavy bomb separating from the Viper.

"Failed launch! Failed launch!"

Suddenly his fighter kicked forward and he was pinned to the back of his couch by the acceleration: the missile had been activated by the Raptor and its rocket was pointing him on a collision course with the enemy. Everything got frantic:

Dipper gritted his teeth and reached for the ejection pull: with a tug his canopy blasted off and he was fired away from his Viper- hooked to the nuclear missile. The awkward, unmanned strike vehicle fought itself to close in on the Cruiser. There were four laser flashes; bright but muted explosions over the hull then the enemy ship leapt clear away... one missile pathetically searched newly empty space for a target before its Raptor transmitted an abort. Dipper was spent and he slipped into unconsciousness. The last thought on his mind was comforting: killing that Raptor pilot.

* * *

**Battlestar _Atlantia_ - Admiral's Cabin**

Nagala's shoulders sagged: the Cruiser had disappeared. He would have no satisfaction. His desire to best that ship receded and his strategic mind took over. Ideas formed. He collected his second-in-command and told the Tactical Officer to start transmitting copies of the after action reports to his cabin. When he got down there a few minutes later he told his second to pour them a stiff drink and collapsed into the nearest chair.

"We are in a lot of trouble."

"Sir I think we did well."

"That thing will be back. It had shields; it can sit protected and tear us to pieces."

"Our armour is strong, we're a modern Battlestar and we inflicted our own damage. We gave a good account."

"I hope so," Nagala didn't sound convinced "but I think when we crunch the numbers it'll show that it doesn't matter what kind of armour our ships are wearing- that those rounds are firing fast enough that we won't want to take more than two or three in close proximity on our hull. Frak this is frakking frak up of the first frakking order."

The Second nodded and put down a glass half filled with green, strong smelling liquid. Nagala took it in a gulp; it burned his throat and shook his brain up that the room wasn't quite straight for a few seconds... but then it warmed him so fast he felt his ears were on fire. He asked for a refill:

"Tell Cain to stop what she's doing and pull back through the Transporter. We'll follow but not before one of our support ships come through..." Nagala thought of the Colonial Heavy this Task Group had been assigned as a space patrol plane, he had a job for it.

"Once we're back on our side get Baltar thinking about how we can regulate who we let use the object to travel: a pass code with lockout."

"Surely?"

"If we fight again it will be on our terms in our space. I don't like this battlefield and I think I can make our end the more solid and easier to hold defensive line."

Nagala was a decisive mind but now he could hear his critics, from the War College, standing over his shoulder and saying he was retreating... he was giving up the initiative. He was being too dour and pessimistic because he truly expected in his head to face more than just one enemy next time.

But he felt he could hold the Colonial end of this point to point transporter and he already had ideas on how to do it. He told his Second-in-Command to ring up the bridge, which the man did after depositing another nearly topped glass of ambrosia in front of the Admiral:

"Tell the Raptors and Vipers to recover every scrap of our presence they can and if they can't safely recover it, destroy it: nothing is left behind and that must be understood."

To his glass of alcohol he lamented "This was supposed to be a great new discovery... it looks like all we've found is a great new threat."

* * *

**Citadel Space - Relay 452**

**Four hours afterwards...**

One Cruiser and three Frigates of the Turian Heirachy reverted near the Relay ready to rejoin the fighter but they found nothing to face off with. Pulcher Illo had launched immediately and realised there was nothing for him to do. The Turian ships had other priorities and since it appeared the area was cleared; the pilot was recalled to cover the force with the rest of the fighters, as they closed in next to the gas giant and began to release their stored drive charge.

Afterwards he landed back on the Cruiser. Illo occupied himself reading collected sensor data on the fight. It was clear his fighter had the advantage over the enemy. It was likely the enemy had no shield technology and may not even have had access to Element Zero based on performance- rather an explanation for lack thereof. He had had all the advantages in a one against one comparison: his Interceptor versus their Fighter. But they obviously had a lot more units to throw into combat because of their Dreadnoughts, and just because they were so behind his curve didn't mean they weren't deadly. He had been one of two, then just one. He realised in the fight they had forced him down to their speed at points. Taking away some of his advantages. They flitted about just fast enough to be tricky targets for a high performing Interceptor to kill.

The Tactical Officer approached him and told him that he would be on stand-by to scramble if the enemy returned. In the meanwhile he was expected to prepare a report on the way the enemy fighters had fought... as the only Turian pilot who had gone up against them. The Tactical Officer congratulated him offhandedly:

"You are an ace in your first engagement. Despite in-flight outbursts that could suggest a need to be more disciplined. Your troop leader was over-confident, I was monitoring the particular combat... did he not expect them to fire back? Perhaps he thought they wouldn't be able to touch him. Regardless you were capable. Overall the individual victories you earned; the treatise you write about it and your conduct in the coming Operations will bode well for you when promotion is considered."

Dubious praise; he had been singled out for merit but his team had been mildly rebuked by this superior Officer. A backhanded compliment: he had not done the right thing but had not done wrong.

* * *

**Palaven**

Deep down in the maze of corridors that made up Heirachy Headquarters for the Legions, in a non-descript situation room, Generals met. They had the combat report of a Turian Cruiser that had responded to the activation of primary Relay Four Five Two. It made for interesting reading:

"Three Dreadnoughts and all appear different but follow the same general arrangement with two of them being in the same, larger, size category. Large numbers of fighters, but all in all they seem rather ineffectual."

"Except their shuttles: they jammed, frustrated and bested our attempts to counter while likely signalling and coordinating the fire of their guns," One General pointed out "they acted like spotters while we hadn't anything up to knock them out."

But the briefing continued regardless in a vein that highlighted the queer ways of the enemy:

"No kinetic barriers were used during the fight, their rounds appeared chemically propelled. Their ships performed like they had no mass effect fields."

"How do they understand and operate the Relays without knowing of mass effect fields?"

"Alien minds work in foolish and seemingly un-comprehendible ways."

"Ambitious minds," another General corrected "only the most aggressive and dangerous type of alien mind would want to run before it walked. Conventionally we believe it impossible to run before we can walk... but perhaps on the other side of Relay Four Five Two it has been accomplished?"

There was a silence that agreed with the thought and let it settle, before this General continued:

"They want to open up the stars; they must be new to the Relays and the theory, physics and technology surrounding them if their weapons of expansion appear so primitive."

"But it is their aim to open Relays and spread across the stars that makes them the most dangerous of foes. That they do it while so unprepared is... clear indication of their barbarian attitude. Lust for power and greed to catch and hold something outweighs the practicalities. Three dreadnought sized ships through the Relay? That cannot be simply and innocently stumbling on a Relay."

"It is a calculated military operation: a conquest of the Relay, and we should be thankful our Cruiser was able to stop it. The Captain made haste."

"We are certain the Dreadnoughts went back through the Relay?"

"No, but that is what we believe. The Frigates on scene have started fanning out and investigating likely reversion points for signs of the enemy. Their ships have large power signals but if they do not have mass effect fields they might not be FTL capable."

The Generals knew the course of action that they would present and have the Primarchs vote on. War. One of the Generals told the gathering:

"The clock starts running now. This enemy is ambitious and aggressive and it forced its way through a Relay once. It will try so again. The enemy has been exposed to us, they know of our advantage over them, and ambitious minds will covet that advantage and seek it out for themselves. We must know more of them, we must destroy their ability to expand and crush their ambition. Then and only then can we begin to rehabilitate what is clearly a troubled new actor on the galactic stage."

"The Council will want to know of this violation?"

"We will inform them of it but we'll want to prepare a comprehensive brief on not just the incident but also the perpetrator. They will then advise us on what to do."

"That will mean a reconnaissance in force to the other side of the Relay." One General decided and opinion was supportive of the notion.

"Yes, we will push forward the nearest Legion and perhaps bring another one up to support it? We should have enough Cruisers and Frigates then surely for campaigning?"

"The move will not go unnoticed. The Council might intercede, might advise before we have chance to explain the situation?"

"We must secure information on the enemy. Its very nature means we should take no chance and establish a numerical advantage."

"The numerical advantage the enemy had, nor the size one they have ship compared to ship, would make any difference in a battle against an assembled Legion. We authorise an objective to gather information, not campaign. We'd have enough Cruisers and Frigates to ensure the safety of our force into and back from the Relay with the single Legion."

"Specifics for the operation will be left to the Legion tasked. We will trust the closest is most capable to handle the mission once concentrated and should it request support for this new objective we will bring another Legion up."

The Generals all agreed and moved on to the next agenda item: providing patrols and shipping in the absence of a Legion released to do something more important. In the back of his mind, the General that had spoken of the dangerous and ambitious mind of the enemy imagined nothing short of full mobilisation of the Turian military, and its deployment into the field, would satisfy his desire to ride this new aggressive alien host of its desire to burst into civilised space.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**- Thanks for the catch on Hegemony v Heirarchy, I think I've made the changes**

**- Likely be a bit of a break before the next update. Or the next update might just be Dramatis Personae **

**- This hopefully answers some things while hinting at others and bringing up more questions. lol. Comparisons likely won't be precise between ME and BSG but I'm reading the wiki's and trying to make it as true to the information on each as possible.**


	6. A 'calm' before the

**Battlestar _Atlantia_ - Sickbay**

Starbuck slapped Dipper's thigh; he was in _Atlantia_'s infirmary having a good old rest while everyone else was running around. That was a bit of harsh assessment for a guy who'd had to punch out but she didn't mind making it. He stirred pretty quickly when she accused him light-heartedly:

"You bailed on purpose," reasoning "you knew the beds were warm and going easy and you punched out."

"Quit it Lieutenant."

She did because while Dipper was known as an approachable and easy going sought- when he was in 'work' mode, which was like every hour of the day you weren't sleeping on a Battlestar, you didn't push it with him.

"When will I be released?"

"I think someone's coming to push you out of bed pretty soon." Starbuck looked around but no one seemed interested

"I want to get back to _Galactica_ and get a Viper."

"I think we can do that."

"What did I miss?"

"A lot..." Starbuck now got serious "I think everyone is getting a bit scared."

"Of the things from the other side?"

"Yup; people believe they're going to come through it to our side and continue the fight."

"Three Battlestars against that one ship would be a win for us."

"I think everyone expects more than just one to turn up?"

"Why?"

She huffed "We're all pessimists."

"Nagala?" Though Dipper couldn't disagree because HE had lost people right in front of him and really he was surprised the man calling the shot actually shared his silent worst fear "Anyone have an idea how to kill these things better than what we did?"

"I did." Starbuck imagined they, the Viper pilots present, were the guinea pigs in some strategically minded Officers thoughts "but I think we won't get answers anytime soon."

"At least the gods are with us. We got back alright."

Starbuck just smiled like Dipper had gone full retard with a complementing 'what are you talking about?' look on her face. Certainly the gods were with them... just would they be enough?

* * *

**Caprica City - Office of the President**

"What?"

"As of early this morning Caprica City time, just a few hours ago in fact, our Task Group at the Transporter Monument reported contact with an alien vessel. It appears to be highly powered, aggressive and utilising combat technology we are unfamiliar with. It attacked and compelled us to return through the monument from the far side."

Admiral Peter Corman remained pretty composed and a lot of that was because he assumed the worst of the reports and assessments he'd gotten back- nearly all of it, was an over-exaggeration.

"It is pretty depressing to go through, but it's only an initial report coming from people that have just only gotten out of combat, and had to send the message out. I trust what reads like dour predictions is actually just a bit of shock creeping in that will then subside. This is one of the considerations we have to make for the authors when we ask for minute by minute plays. We've already requested new assessments but at the moment Admiral Nagala is trying to establish good order and marshal a defensive line in case they actually are followed by this alien vessel. We have lost no ships: everyone is back in Colonial space."

"It sounds like the situation has fallen apart..." Adar looked about ready to rage. In the little daily briefs and finally his meeting with Corman he'd been given every impression this new find was a golden gift from the gods to humanity. He likely intended to reveal it to the public and ride the awe into Office again when he had to. Tricky dick probably saw himself ushering in a new era or something like that. But well, it didn't sound like it would be the case now. The other side had aliens. And they were intent on scaring off humanity.

"One of our Escorts was damaged substantially while engaging the alien vessel but our Battlestars forced it to retreat before anything happened."

Corman didn't add that if he were there he'd have held the other end of the Transporter Monument rather than scurried back... but then the President wasn't primed to be told that. He might explode at the idea of pouring more of the military into deep space. He was already thinking about the cheque he'd need to write to continue the Fleet's efforts, Corman could see it in Adar's eyes... the President didn't have the same perspective. Nagala for his part had dispatched the most alarmist sounding first assessment Corman could have imagined. The advising Admiral would have liked it to have been toned down a little and though normally he didn't mind the idea of scaring the Government into actually taking the Military for its word and fulfilling its wishes- this was too excitable a first report from Nagala and it looked like he was overplaying it all. No sympathy then from the President.

Adar shook his head "Yeah we're doing well are we? Ok, what's to say we haven't opened up the gates of hell?"

"All I can tell you is what we know." The President didn't look satisfied at all "Sir, if I may, you can take that data from the first combats and make it look like all sorts of trouble is waiting for us... but really that's one instance."

He continued "We're a strong Fleet and at the moment we have the highest single out of system deployment guarding this Monument. I would recommend sending more ships out. Understand though that this is one troubling vessel and it is by no means an invincible ship. It lights up our DRADIS and as combat continues leaves a more pronounced signature. I'm saying, and so are our analysts, that to power all its sci-fi wiz-bang looking weapons... like shields or lasers... that thing is cooking itself and it can't stand the heat as long as we can- with good old shells firing at it."

"And Nagala says he has reservations about whether we can last long enough for our weapons to do anything? Adar looked down at the brief "This situation needs to be resolved. This sounds too crazy... too much like we're in trouble. A real world crisis is the Colonial government getting the Teacher's Union not to strike. This is some cheap blockbuster plot splashed out to scare me into stalling our reduction program for the military?"

Adar shook his head "Tidy this up and give me some real facts. Then I'll make a decision either way about what we do."

"I agree with you're saying," the Admiral assured "and I will likely be heading out there to get a better understanding of what Admiral Nagala is talking about myself. What conditions are out there."

That was a bit of a lie... Corman decided he was going to have to step in.

"Okay." Adar seemed sated, temporarily most likely

Admiral Corman wound down the chat with the President and then made his excuses. He was a man made during the Cylon War and came from a school of thought that he'd been convinced of while fighting that last large terrible war. What was out there among the stars was dangerous; the Fleet was the guardian of 'here' and standing between it and there. The Fleet would always react seriously. The Colonies had been devastated once; mankind had come to the brink once. Corman had lived it. This was one school, a school that was losing ground and held no sway with the generations that hadn't known total war, still had men clinging on to positions of power.

He decided to make his way out to the object via Picon; where at Fleet Headquarters he could make the little changes in the Fleet's peacetime posture that would bring it closer to mobilising if it needed to.

* * *

**Battlestar _Pegasus_ - Admiral Cain's Office**

**10 hours later**

Admiral Cain stood looking over printouts and pictures from the alien combat on the other side of the monument. She'd lost five Raptors and crew. _Galactica_ had lost Vipers but it all seemed pretty light for the information they'd picked up and the opportunity to draw conclusions it had given. An individual human tragedy lost something when it was tabulated and printed with a handful more. Her Executive Officer asked:

"You believe they'll actually come through?"

"I'm a believer in better safe than sorry." She answered and starting afresh "Now, the readings we've computed really does not make it look good for us: they have huge power outputs, fast movers, powerful guns and unbreakable defences."

"Yes sir."

"But then the longer we fight the more it evens up?"

"Ummm: certainly it looked that way out the observation windows but then on paper its saying that they still have huge performance advantages over us still. That it doesn't actually add up that way. The difference may have been ticker in this case."

"I don't trust in calculations all of the time, it felt like we had them running... though it could have been spooked yes- that alien ship- it just wanted to kill us quick. We didn't oblige, we're built for a long dirty fight. So it cut and ran. But we're expecting it'll be back with friends. That's what we'd do if we were them."

"What should we be doing?"

"Telling the gun crews to practise firing for long periods of time, having to factor new firing solutions after every barrage and coordinating salvoes with our missile launches so that when our anti-ship missiles close those lasers we saw them firing are focusing on downing shells not warheads."

"That's not easy. You really think..."

Cain's look caused her XO to trail off "I hope not but Nagala is telling us to expect the worst kind of trouble and we aren't going to plan for otherwise on the spectrum having been told that. I'll be happy knowing our guns can turn whatever comes through the transporter into dust before I'd want to know whether it's peaceful or not."

* * *

**Bezerk Landing Bay**

Ensign Esrin popped the hatch of the Raptor and her eyes widened as she took in the horror story that was _Bezerk_'s Landing Deck.

"Easy." Her pilot told her to stay calm and keep it orderly.

He needn't have bothered; the Battlestar Escorts crew were suited up and carrying equipment and did much of the lifting and settling in themselves without direction. It made her job as Loadmaster easy... well it meant she hardly needed to do anything other than sign off, close the hatch and give the thumbs up. It was a surreal feat considering the buckled deck, wavering lights and sounding alarms they were working under. It was downright eerie that there were other small clusters of the crew just standing and waiting for the next Raptor in.

As the cabin was sealed the pilot talked his way back up and out of the stricken Escort. The crewmen lifted out looked pretty tired and word was they'd taken a solid beating with the flight in confirming that. It was like they'd faced down four Battlestars or something outrageous but by some miracle had survived. She settled back into her seat and frowned while one of the _Bezerkers_ the Raptor had taken on was babbling:

"It was crazy, it was crazy."

"Shut up crewman." Another tried to quiet him

"It was crazy! You were there: they tore through us like we were made of tinfoil!"

"Ship's still functioning. We got out. It wasn't that bad"

"It was horrible! We're abandoning her! Gods be praised, they delivered us! Some of us..." the man started sobbing

"Shut up crewman."

The Escort was going to be dragged out of the way but there weren't tugs and repair boats nearby so the task was currently with a few Engineers and an operating team. They had to keep it together and move it out of what the Task Group had deemed an 'active operations area'.

* * *

**Battlestar _Atlantia_ - CIC**

Nagala checked his watch. Baltar and Amarak were now on his Battlestar going over everything after the former promised the Admiral he could control what would come through the Monument but would need time to implement it. Amarak was suggesting this thing couldn't be shut off but admitted that was a fear more than a theory when the accomplished Mister Gaius Baltar turned on him.

The Admiral was convinced neither knew what they were talking about but one wasn't about to let that be the end of the matter. No enemy had come through yet so the Admiral had asked the scientists to go over everything the Raptors, Vipers and the bigger ships had collected or monitored during the battle. Baltar again had come back within minutes saying:

"They aren't following the rules of the universe: not as we know and understand them. This is really quite amazing. Irrational at the moment but to be made rational will be amazing to us; absolutely."

Which hadn't been comforting but the scientist was positively delighted by the fact; like it meant he'd have a job for life figuring out just how these aliens made the stars spin... however short that life might be if the aliens got into the Colonies with all that power at their disposal.

The situation around the object was slowly developing. Pegasus and Galactica covered the monument with a round the clock fighter vigil prepped to attack. While _Atlantia_ covered _Bezerk_ as the Escort drifted away from the source of all trouble.

A message had come through from Admiral Corman at Fleet Headquarters; it was a request for information on what was going on... but the other Admiral already knew what was going on, and developments were constantly being forwarded down the line to him. What Corman wanted was evidence and justification- reason as to why Nagala had chosen to abandon the mission of fortifying the other side. Nagala wanted to be wrong, he wanted Corman to score points in such a conversation, because otherwise and if Nagala was right- then there'd be an alien attack here very soon.

* * *

**Colonial Space - Relay 452**

Hammerhead kept his Viper still with a short burst from the nose RCS; his guns were trained over the transporter monument and he was part of two Viper Squadrons watching for trouble. He hadn't really been told what trouble to expect but it was probably going to be serious trouble if the look of _Bezerk_ was anything to go by.

"Contact!" Ninja shouted on the wireless, it was followed and overlayed in his ear by another crackling call of "Contact!" then a third and he got a DRADIS bearing... right out from the object. His screen finally picked up four new dots; three seemed bigger than the last. Hammerhead found swallowing hard all of a sudden; and realised his throat had tightened up... he almost felt panicky like his collar seal was too tight. The Viper driver opened up his fighter's throttle as over the squadron frequency the order was given to scatter formation. There was a fourth contact but the moment where he realised he had been scared was past: he was ready to fight.

He was accelerating to attack. Hammerhead was entrusted with an anti-shipping missile, fitted on the centreline; like nearly half of the Vipers watching over the object had been. He was one of many birds likewise turned out: as strike fighters.

"Contacts are bandits: they're turning sharp and heading out. They're-"

* * *

"Heading for _Bezerk_." Narcho announced on the whole team's tactical frequency and didn't need to tell anyone why:

The _Bezerk_ was still in the open, still slowly drifting away in its heavily damaged state while two of the Battlestars were mixed in with the clutch of asteroids the object had first been found hidden in, and so only one out in the open was in a position to provide real cover and protection. The enemy had seen _Bezerk_, recognised it and was charging for the kill. Well two of them were since the third and the fourth smaller one was holding position where it was.

"Green Squadron," Narcho toggled wireless channels to get his guys and girls in his earpiece "We have that small ship to deal with... let's kill it."

* * *

Hammerhead adjusted his direction as the voice in his head, Racetrack's, had advised. She was riding with them in a Raptor not to far back and parallel; controlling their intercept of one of the two new bandits. The bandit was the size of colonial heavy but didn't move like one. He was now flying along the line she had set and one that would have him meet the fast mover before they got at _Bezerk_. Hammerhead couldn't believe it; the bandit heavies were accelerating gods damn fast and dealing with the G's like they were nothing. They were like missiles that way, but huge and possibly crewed.

Racetrack had done the calculations though, had told the Viper group of which Hammerhead was part to race on the line she set to the point she set and that way no matter how fast the enemy went they would be in range to target and release their missiles before _Bezerk_ was caught.

The Raptor came on the line again, telling Hammerhead and his fellow pilots they were nearly at the release point then they were at the release point, and Hammerhead 'dropped' the missile he was carrying and flicked his Viper clear while it fired away after the enemy. He watched on his DRADIS for long seconds as the timed missile cluster closed with the targeted enemy ship, it looked good; then in the last few moments the bandit 'climbed' and the missiles arced to follow. Some were knocked out by the enemy laser point defence system and one disappeared in its wake but a good amount detonated close to it. Bright flashes... the bandit and its partner tore on towards the _Bezerk_ like it were nothing for them to have had worried about.

* * *

**Battlestar _Galactica_ - CIC**

Commander William Adama watched the Tactical Display as both he and Cain's _Pegasus_ put down an impressive barrage. The fighters on hand had launched their missiles with little or no effect and were pulling out of the firing solution of the Battlestars. Tigh was quiet mostly, subdued when he spoke:

"We should be doing something to them."

But it looked like they weren't, Mister Gaeta was coming back with readings of the temperature and DRADIS signature the enemy left... it rose just noticeably and making it rise seemed to be the key. Why? Adama glanced at Tigh then back to the screens. Because the heat in that little thing just had to be rising and if there was anything aboard vaguely human it would be roasting. Mirthlessly one could conclude that that must be why the aliens were so frantic and aggressive.

Now _Atlantia_ was putting up its own barrage of fire on the attack vector these bandits adopted into _Bezerk_. Minutes showed the quiet close of forces. The DRADIS dispassionately noted the enemy move around the worst of the barrage without losing much speed and making strikes on the _Bezerk_'s engines but then as quickly as that was done they pulled sharply around and raced back towards the transporter monument. Their one pass seemed enough, it stressed the already troubled Battlestar Escort _Bezerk_ and triggered explosions within the structure that consumed and bent it...

The enemy left as quickly as it came.

* * *

**Citadel Space - Relay 452**

**33 minutes later**

Pulcher Illo stopped consuming his rations in the crew dining room as an announcement came over the ship's communications system. It told that the Frigates sortied down the Relay had killed one enemy Dreadnought and provided enough of a distraction for the scout ship that had been deployed to take a short range localised picture of the other side of the Relay. It was just a glimpse into the heavens of the barbaric alien lawbreakers but Illo knew it would be invaluable to the overall planning of the Turian operation to come.

This was just the start.

Word had already been given that the Legion was forming in full and that meant it would likely make a second and more thorough scouting mission through the Relay then the one just conducted. No it wouldn't scout, it would capture and hold; so both ends of the Relay were secured. Preparations were underway and in full swing: Illo saw the spirit of the unit alive and in the very actioning of the timetabled and sure build-up going on. The military on the Citadel side of Relay Four Five Two was doing its job: protecting civilisation.

* * *

**Caprica - Delphi**

**18 hours later**

Two old men met in a park in Delphi; they sat on the same bench while one read the paper and the other simply watched people walk by- though he had the most horrid reaction displayed while he did. One wore hat and thick overcoat which was just a little too much for the climate, and the other wore a knitted jumper and obvious toupee. One had a moustache and sideburns while the other was clean shaven. Both carried themselves differently with one sure and the other uncomfortable. Regardless of all this if you looked at them long enough you might have wondered whether they were related: brothers. No one paid them any notice though and they talked freely:

"Something is happening, can you feel it? Something we did not plan."

"No. Feel isn't the right word."

"We... know it then."

They each knew something different and together shared "Three or four Battlestar Groups have moved without notice. Moved gives the wrong impression: abandoned their position is a more correct way to say it. Rushed away, we don't know where they are."

"It isn't something to be alarmed about; we know those Groups weren't prepared for any long term missions and they'll likely turn up again shortly. We've lost Groups quite a number of times."

"It's happened before yes. But I am not comforted."

"Lead researchers on the CNP are also no longer accounted for and we are far more closely following them than each Battlestar Group... we know that one was even picked up by a subsequently disappearing Battlestar do you believe."

"The CNP hasn't stopped or stalled has it?"

"No. It continues on schedule and most of the Fleet has it already implemented."

"That is up to the minute?"

"Not this minute but pretty damn close to it."

"I want to know up to this minute. Things are changing; slightly and innocently but just enough to jeopardise our objectives."

"Potentially."

"Potentially. I mean think if they know?"

"There is no activity on the Armistice Line. No moves being made to counter the very large breaches of security we have orchestrated and nothing to suggest humanity is any wiser to what is to happen to it."

"But if it were suspicious."

"Then the plan will not go along. We will have to acknowledge that what will happen will be something other than we expect."

"Bloody war then victory..."

"Not instant, total victory."

"We will certainly lose more than we thought we would."

"Yes, it will traumatise us and change us. Our aspirations and this belief in the truth of god as revealed to us might become casualties of the process. Vitally the lessons we want learned might not be learned."

"That is not the plan I agree. But the nature of the plan at this stage, this close to fruition wouldn't allow a response without complicating our timeline."

"Yes, we are at the stage where things must be left to unfold. I will talk to my contact and when we meet again see if there are any developments that could suggest the timeline is being changed purposely by the Fleet and from Government."

"Good."

"Good."

"Would you like to read today's paper?"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

**-The advantages of one versus the other will probably be referred to in passing by characters. There is a War College post and a few debates but that might not be for a few chapters.**

**-The Council will get involved in the next few chapters, the Cylons likewise**

**-The big battle will likely begin in the next chapter**

**-Information on the BSG side of things (my impressions) are being put up on the galacticafanon wikia under "Dimension Twenty Two" (D22). There's not much on there now. Might do likewise for Mass Effect if I find out which is the companion fanon wiki for it.**


End file.
